


Home For Christmas

by JuweWright



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Eve, Gen, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Wish Fulfillment, Wishes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-11 00:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8945179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuweWright/pseuds/JuweWright
Summary: It's the 24th of December 1998 and George and Ginny Weasley only wish for Fred to still be there for Christmas.You might require tissues for this. And I am sorry.





	

It was the night before Christmas and The Burrow was eerily quiet.

Somewhere in the night outside an owl hooted.

But there was no noise, no laughter inside the house although there were so many people in it.

It was just silent. Silent and still.

It was the 24th of December 1998 and George couldn't sleep.

Seven months and twelve days since the Battle of Hogwarts.

Seven months and twelve days since Fred had died.

Seven months and twelve days since the Weasley family had taken this fatal blow.

Seven months and twelve days since George had lost his brother, his closest ally, his best friend and his second soul.

He had carried on with Weasley Wizard Weezes. The world needed fun and distraction after the bleakness and the horror and the sadness and the deaths and the trauma. Fred would have scolded him had he even considered for a single second to abandon the shop. They had worked so hard to achieve their goal and they had succeeded. They had been so proud to have managed to get there on nothing but their wits and a little bit of start capital from Harry Potter. They had seen how proud they had made their mother. Molly, always worried about her twin boys, who were always up to their ears in some mischief or other, had finally found she had underestimated her sons. And oh how she had gushed over them and their success.

George got up. It was chilly in his room and he lazily waved his wand in direction of the window sealing the corners so no cold could creep in. Then he pulled last year's Christmas sweater over his head - Fred's sweater. as there was a huge F embroidered on the chest - and walked down the staircase and into the living room.

The old family clock was still hanging on the wall. Molly had stopped taking it everywhere with her after the war had ended. Now they were all safe again. All except one. Usually the hands of these clocks fell off, if the wizard it belonged to died. It was just the way they were constructed. But for some odd reason that nobody could explain, Fred's hand had stayed on there. It rested on "lost" and had been there ever since that fatal night in spring. George gulped when he saw it resting there and looked quickly away. He threw over one of the big cloaks that was hanging in the hallway and slipped on a pair of thick winter boots before stepping out into the wintry air of The Burrow's back yard.

The grass was frozen and cracked under his steps. The moon shone bright and silvery and the stars twinkled through the darkness. There were hardly any clouds in the sky.

George turned around to look at the house and sighed when he noticed the flickering light in Ginny's room. So she also suffered from insomnia. Why didn't this surprise him. Ginny being Ginny, she had been his strength and support throughout the first months after Fred's death. George did not know how she managed. She had supported Molly's constant breakdowns. She had broken Arthur's silence. She had come up with ideas for the joke shop and made George smile, when all he had wanted to do was throw himself onto the floor and scream. At the same time she had been there for Harry, who had been more than traumatized from his experiences, had helped Hermione retrieve her parents and reverse the obliviation and had baked, cooked and run the household for a large family that had suddenly become completely dysfunctional.

She did not talk much about Fred but when she did, she usually smiled sadly. She had admitted that she wrote letters to him sometimes. Instead of writing a diary, Ginny wrote a long, long telegram to her older brother. George understood. Next to him, she had been closest to Fred. When she had been only three years old, they had taught her to ride a broom. Not just one of the toy thingies that parents bought their kids to say „oh look ickle bugsy can already fly a broom like his daddy” but they had sat her down on a Clean Sweep Five and told her the proper way to stay on it. She had not fallen off once. And Molly had only found out months later after Ginny had crashed head first into one of her huge potted plants in the attempt to catch a Snitch. Ginny had been the honorary third twin. She had surpassed Ron easily, because she was witty and clever and funny and curious. She was just like them and both Fred and George loved her passionately.

George understood that Ginny wrote letters to Fred because it was not so different from what he himself did, when he talked to Fred as if he was standing next to him, as if he was still there. It was especially bad at the shop. Sometimes he got carried away and shouted things at his brother where one thing or other was stashed away or whether he could please have a look and check whether there were any Puking Pastilles left. It usually hit him very hard when these moments happened, because they were unintentional. But talking to Fred whilst being aware that he was not here and if he was listening, he was not able to answer, could be soothing and calming. It helped. Not much. But enough to keep George from going insane.

“You know, Fred,” he said, looking up at Ginny's window. “It's going to be weird to be her only best man at the wedding. It should have been both of us. It really should have. I'll just wear two bow ties instead of one to make sure nobody forgets.”

He grinned, knowing, that his brother would have liked that plan.

“Know what. I wish you could be here again. I mean we've got that massive Turkey stuffed for tomorrow. There's going to be so much food. And then there's Harry and Ginny being all giddy about the engagement. And Teddy. You would love Teddy. He's just like us, leaves chaos and destruction everywhere, yet everybody loves him.”

He took a deep breath and stared into the night sky, blinking away the tears.

“Damned, I really wish you'd be here with me, Fred.”

~#*#~

_Dear Fred_

_It's Christmas tomorrow and everybody's here. Harry's sleeping in my bed right now and is snoring quietly. Yes, he snores, but not half as badly as Ron or Percy, so I hardly ever notice and it never keeps me awake. I actually find it quite cute._

_He asked me to marry him yesterday evening. I had suspected he would do someday, but it still surprised me he had chosen this date of all dates. But I guess he wanted to lighten up the mood, make this Christmas a little brighter for all of us. I accepted, of course, and I am very happy to become Mrs Potter. It also means we will be a proper family for Teddy soon._

_It will still be a bleak Christmas though. Remus and Tonks should be here to celebrate with us, but they are gone. As are so many others. Your place will be empty as well. It's weird. Sometimes I think, George and I are the ones who are coping best with your absence, which is strange, because I believe we were closer to you than anyone else. Mum keeps tearing up. You know how she is. I mean she hardly managed to live through Percy's asshole-period and this is much worse._

_George wore your old Christmas Jumper today when he came down to breakfast. She almost choked on her eggs and then hurried away crying. He seemed completely baffled. Thought it would be a joke. But you know mum. I guess for a split second she saw you standing there instead of him and it just kind of broke her._

_I think I just heard something move on the staircase. Bet it's George. He doesn't sleep much. But you know that already, don't you. The two of you... you always were an entity. You were my favourite brothers and allies and I know you as individuals better than anyone else. I know that you were always louder than him yet had those moments when you were just completely lost in thought, detached from the world. He sometimes gets that nowadays. I know he never did when you were still there. It's as if he's taken over some of your habits. He still brushes his teeth while walking all over the house, so no news there. But he sometimes does that little flick of the wrist that was a trademark for you._

_I have long thought about what to give George for Christmas. I mean, with the shop running smoothly, he has all the money he needs to buy everything he'd want. I am not creative nor talented enough to come up with something that is both self-made and presentable. I finally decided on taking him to one of the major Quidditch matches this summer. It actually fits nicely into the schedule so we can go to the match and afterwards he can come along and cheer for me during the Try Outs for the Holihead Harpies._

_Yet... what I wanted to say. I know that there's only one thing George would wish for if he could, one thing I would wish for if I could and that is to have you here again. We miss you, Fred Weasley, we miss you so terribly much._

_Love, and Merry Christmas_

_Ginny_

~#*#~

  
  


The next morning brought snow.

White Christmas.

George was walking down the staircase, toothbrush in hand and almost bumped into Ginny who had just left her room. They smiled at each other. She had come outside briefly during the night, had taken his hand as she had done a million times when she had been a child and had led him back inside telling him, he'd catch a cold if he stayed in the cold for much longer. They had both known why he was there and awake, why she was there and awake. Both of their gazes had rested on the family clock for a second or two. On the Hand that said “Fred” and that kept pointing to “lost”. Then they had both gone upstairs and finally found some sleep.

“One day you'll fall down the staircase, because you fell over the cat or because Teddy left a toy lying around and then you'll probably manage to ram that toothbrush right through your decent ear,” Ginny commented with a grin.

George almost swallowed his toot paste. Thank you, little sister, for making this bleak morning a bit more bearable.

There were lots of preparations to be made and a couple of people still arrived in time for Christmas dinner.

Hermione brought her parents along, which distracted Molly and Arthur for a while. Arthur was glad to have a victim to interview about sockets and plugs and Molly showed Mrs Granger her collection of magical cookbooks. It was endearing to watch.

Luna and Neville more or less stumbled out of the Mantlepiece, made a huge mess on the carpet and brought more than one cup of good cheer. Luna's red and green Christmas dress was a sight that nobody would soon forget and George wondered when Neville had left the clumsy little boy behind to become a pretty confident young man. Hagrid landed in the back yard with his old flying motorbike and almost strangled Harry, Ron and Hermione with his hugs.

When they all were assembled around the table and the turkey was ready to be cut up, George noticed that there was still one seat left. The seat opposite him was unoccupied. Everybody had just sat down without particular order or though and yet the one seat that had been left free was Fred's old seat. George gulped and met Ginny's eye. One glance was enough to realize that she had noticed as well.

The feast began and dinner was amazing, conversation was good and the turkey had been in the oven for just the right amount of time.

“Mum has actually outdone herself this time. I think she never managed to get the turkey just right. Remember the year before last when it had the consistency of a door mat?”

George froze. His eyes had been fixed on the meat he was cutting and his whole concentration had been on the process as he did not want to end up with a flying roasted bird. Very slowly, he let his knife sink and looked up.

“Hey Gred,” said Fred with a huge grin on his face and winked. Then he turned to Ginny. “Hi Gin.”

Ginny's face was white as a sheet. She looked as if she was going to faint any second.

“Hey, you should be glad to see me. Both of you.”

George stared at his brother trying to figure out what was happening. Had Fred turned into a ghost? He did not look like a ghost. Ghosts usually looked a bit ethereal, Fred looked completely normal, solid. But still... George thought for a split second before he noticed what had struck him as odd. Hid brother did not look a day older than twenty.

“Don't worry. I am not a ghost come to haunt you for the rest of your life,” Fred said. “And before you ask: Only the two of you can actually see me, so talking to me loudly might come across a bit odd. That is – I am not one hundred percent sure about Luna. You know she's a bit different. She might not directly see me, but she might sense me. But then she's odd anyways, so nobody will notice if _she_ does anything strange. I can hear your thoughts though.”

Ginny stared at him. George could read the question in her eyes that also had formed in his own head.

“What are you?”

Fred smiled again. He looked so alive, so happy, so normal. So very much like Fred. How was this possible? George looked down at his dinner again, at the Pumpkin juice in his glass. Was he hallucinating? And if he was hallucinating, why was Ginny doing it as well while nobody else seemed to be affected?

“I am here,” Fred said. “And that means – I guess – I am a wish come true. I have no clue about the workings of this, you know they don't let outsiders in on this kind of stuff but...,” he shrugged. “Honestly, who cares. I'm here. I can sit here, talk to you, be with my favourite people on earth, can smell the turkey, see the decorations, hear Neville going on and on and on about that new plant he found in the alps and watch Harry go all gooey every time he thinks about the fact that my beautiful sister is actually going to be his wife next year...”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“By the way, George, I really appreciate the idea of the two ties, I think a violet one and a red one would be great together. But just among us, I'm not going to miss Gin's wedding for the world.”

Fred stayed for the whole evening. He sat next to Hermione on the sofa while presents were exchanged next to the gigantic Christmas tree. He leaned against the mantlepiece when they played charades and did his best to improve everybody else's performance which led to many outbursts of laughter from Ginny's and George's side that led to some of the others believing they had had too much punch.

He laughed and he smiled and he flicked his wrist as just Fred did it. And although only two of the company could see him, not a tear was shed by Molly this evening over her dead son, not a moment of dark brooding silence came over Arthur. There was only happiness and merriment for the night. When everybody else had gone to bed, George and Ginny were the last ones in the living room. It was almost midnight.

“I guess you will have to leave us before Boxing Day?,” Ginny said quietly to Fred, who was standing at the window and watching the snow fall outside.

He turned around and opened his arms to embrace her. She hesitated for a moment. How would it feel to hug this Fred, this wish someone had granted them for a night? She took a deep breath and stepped forward to hug him. It felt just right. She remembered the warmth of his chest, the exact amount of pressure he had used to pull her close – less than George, but more than Ron – and the light smell of peppermint that had always lingered in his hair. He let her go and she did not turn away to hide her tears. She did not have to hide. Not in front of those two.

Fred turned towards George. For a split second, the living twin hesitated, then he hugged his brother as tightly as he always had.

When they stepped back, Fred was beaming, while George's lips and hands trembled.

“I never left you,” Fred said warmly, as his form slowly dissolved into thin air. “And I never will.”

They stood there for a while. Older brother, younger sister, staring at the empty space in front of them. Then, simultaneously, their eyes wandered to the family clock on the wall.

Fred's hand had moved. It was resting on “home” now.

And that's where it was still pointing on Boxing Day.

And on New Year.

And on Ginny's wedding day.

And on every other day.

Because he never left.

When George left this world many years later, his son found the clock had finally dropped two hands at once.

 

 


End file.
